


love is all but hard liquor

by serenityblues



Category: GOT7
Genre: ...i think lol, M/M, also a tiny sprinkle of implied jinson, and unresolved sexual tension, but mostly jackson and jinyoung, gang!thief!au, mentions of some of the other members
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 14:02:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7621183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenityblues/pseuds/serenityblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hasn't run into any of Mr. Park's underlings in two years, much less anyone from a rival thief ring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	love is all but hard liquor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



He is in a dirty little tavern in Spain when he sees him. Sitting there alone surround by the moldy walls and run down wooden counters.   
  
It's funny really, that Jaebum would run into him here of all places, five years since he had left everything behind and decided to move on. Only moving on in this profession entails hiding in crevices and hoping the shadows don't swallow you whole. It's only luck that has allowed him to survive so far - that and the fact that Jinyoung had been kind enough to let him loot some ammunition before he had handed in his resignation letter.  
  
And by resignation letter Jaebum means multiple broken bones for the two subordinates guarding him and a very empty safe.   
  
I mean, the least he could do for Jinyoung was not leave dead bodies in his wake. He had given him a pretty clean out after the mess he had caused after all, even if his father knew nothing of their little pact and was still after Jaebum's ass.  
  
Jaebum sips the cheap whiskey leisurely, watching from behind the rim of his glass. He hasn't run into any of Mr. Park's underlings in two years, much less anyone from a rival thief ring. And yet here is one, sitting there drinking ale from a chipped mug. It's quite the picturesque scene actually, with his lithe figure hunched over in the booth by the corner, blonde hair peeking past the grey hood pulled over his head - it'd been a fiery red last time Jaebum had seen him (red like the blood on him that same day), two months before he decided to quit it all.  
  
The hood itself does little to hide his face though, and Jaebum lazily moves his eyes around the room, notices the two men in the far corner sizing the figure up with little to no subtlety at all.

Can't really blame them though. Mark Tuan had always been known as the pretty boy in the underground rustler circle, long before he had become infamous for his knifes and rifles and knack for hitting the bull's eye with impossible precision. It had taken him a mere few weeks to get acquired by the Dragon Ring, then just a few months to rise up through the ranks. By the time Jaebum met him Mark had already been under the command of the boss's heir and was working towards stealing the title of best marksmen.   
  
A title that had belonged to Jaebum.  
  
He'd hated his guts then. 

 

 

It's Mark who approaches him, sliding to sit on the empty barstool next to Jaebum and ordering a scotch in near-perfect Spanish. It should surprise him, but then again, there aren't a lot of things that surprise Jaebum anymore.   
  
"Fancy seeing a runaway here." Jaebum chuckles at the ease in Mark's voice, drinking the rest of his whiskey before signaling the bartender to give him another round. 

"Didn't know renowned high-rankers frequented such places," Jaebum replies, and although there is a smirk playing at the corner of Mark's lips, the look in his eyes tells Jaebum something else. Jaebum ignores it.  
  
"Funny, I thought you'd know exactly why they are so pleasing." 

He looks different blonde, Jaebum thinks, sweeping his eyes over his form. Different in a good way. Still skinny but toned, lean muscle rippling under the surface of his grey hoodie. It's torn at the sleeve slightly and looks completely worn out - probably to blend in with the scenario, Jaebum guesses. Only an idiot would walk in the open around here in anything but barely there rags.  Seeing him like this is a bit odd though. Without his leather gear and rifle and black finger-less gloves. Jaebum always thought seeing someone from his past, especially someone like Mark - someone who he'd considering a formidable opponent since the moment he had gotten to his target before Jaebum himself - would elicit some emotion from him. Maybe nostalgia. Probably anger.   
  
But he feels oddly subdued right now, especially considering the last he had heard during his visit to the outskirts of Seoul was that Mark was still working for the Wangs. This could easily be a trap to either kill him or bring him in. 

And yet it feels nothing like that. It's not like meeting Mark before, catching his eye from across buildings as they go for the same kill. It doesn't feel like the calm before a storm. 

It just feels like calm.  
Jaebum glances down Mark's body as he drinks the amber liquid, noting the outline of a thin knife on the side of his thigh, above the slit of the ripped jeans he is wearing in the summer heat. 

"I see your love of sharp pointy little objects hasn't died." It really shouldn't feel this calm. Mark's tongue darts out to lick away the remnants of liquor from the corner of his lips and Jaebum definitely doesn't stare. 

"Only an idiot would leave the house without one." Mark stares back, his eyes drift to Jaebum's mouth. 

He ignores it.  
  
"Only an idiot would come to these parts of town." Jaebum reiterates, turning to stare at the shelves and shelves of stored liquor behind the counter. They are all the cheap kind. The kind that leaves a stale aftertaste in your mouth after the first gulp, burns the lining of your throat. Only it's not the good kind of burn, the one that hurts good and leaves you wanting for more. It's the kind that cuts away at you until your insides bleed.

He suddenly misses drowning in some good old Jack Daniel's.   
  
Jaebum hasn't missed it since he left.   
  
"You calling yourself an idiot then?"  
  
"What are you doing here, Mark." It's not a question but a statement. Mark doesn't flinch. Doesn't even blink. He probably expected it sooner or later.  
  
The calm remains.  
  
It's too much.

"Did Jackson send you?" Jaebum asks evenly, looking back at Mark and smirking when he sees him narrow his eyes. Good sign. "You still his little bitch?"  
  
The old Jaebum always liked fire better than calm anyway.  
  
And there is fire behind Mark's eyes now, as he glares at him with furrowed brows beneath the hood of his sweatshirt. There is heat simmering behind his brown orbs and Jaebum wants to see it boil over, wants to see it overtake every part of him like it used to before. People in the circle used to say Mark was the serene lad with the pretty face and the good aim. Jaebum knew better. He'd seen past the carefully constructed facade the moment he had met him. He'd always had a temper, always been one step away from being ignited - only unlike Jaebum he didn't let the fire consume him whole. Mark hid it behind deadly silence instead.  
  
Jaebum had hated that about him too. The fact that he could so easily conceal himself when Jaebum struggled to not set everything aflame.  

It's the same silence Mark uses now, letting the seconds trickle into minutes. And with each tick of the beaten down clock on the wall Jaebum feels his own temper rising, the calm slowly bleeding away. It feels like hours before Mark speaks again.   
  
"Why did you leave?" Jaebum snorts at the question.  
  
"That's none of your business."  
  
"Fine, then why did you save me."  
  
The sound of Jaebum's glass meeting the wooden counter is loud enough for the bartender look over, but thankfully he only gives the two of them a pointed look before resuming his own work.   
  
"No idea what you are going on about," Jaebum says tightly. He can feel the whiskey searing the insides of his mouth, taste bitter on his lips. Jaebum's jaw clicks shut and he knows Mark notices. He doesn't say anything though, and letting the moment fester only fouls Jaebum's mood further.   
  
"I know what actually happened," Mark throws back, and hearing fury that seeps into his voice is oddly satisfying to Jaebum. It's still not enough to stop his anger from boiling though. "I know about the private snipers hired to take both you and me down. You know exactly what I'm talking about."  
  
Jaebum does. He remembers when the intel came in, remembers Youngjae's frantic call from their headquarters an hour before his mission, about how a couple of smaller mobs had banded together and paid off third parties to get rid of high-rankers in hopes of infiltrating the gangs more easily. And of course Mark and him would be the best targets, what with them basically working as right-hand men for the heirs. It was the perfect kill to make a statement against two of the biggest rings working in the city. Youngjae had tried to stop him from going, begged him even, but the moment Jaebum had heard that Mark was already there—  
  
No, it's been years since then. He isn't going to think about it when none of it matters anymore. Not now. Not even with Mark here. Regardless of him knowing what happened or not.  
  
Jaebum gulps down the rest of his drink in one go, grimacing at the awful taste just as Mark turns to him, his knee bumping against Jaebum's.  
  
"Hyunwoo told me—"

"You expect me to believe you are suddenly chummy with one of Jinyoung's men?" Jaebum sneers at him, dropping crumbled bills next to the empty glass and standing up because even if he wants to stay and coax out the anger out of Mark, let it mingle with his own and set everything ablaze, Jaebum knows he can't stay. This could be a trap. Wang's men could around the corner, and Jaebum sure as hell isn't going to get caught by thinking with his heart. Not again.  
  
A hand closes around his wrist just as he moves to walk out the door.  
  
"The Parks and the Wangs made an undisclosed alliance a year ago. Why do you Park Jinyoung's henchmen haven't come for you in almost two years? It's because Junior wants you to come back..."  
  
The thought of Mark being here because Jinyoung sent him makes a new kind of rage surge through Jaebum's veins. He wrenches his wrist free from Mark's grasp, leveling him with a glare before walking out. 

Despite everything part of him still believes him.

 

 

It's not that Jaebum doesn't expect to see him again.  
  
He knows Mark well enough to know he will try again, won't leave town until he has run ragged attempting to accomplish whatever he came here for. It's just that he doesn't expect him to reappear so soon, showing up at the doorstep of his studio apartment two days after Jaebum saw him at the tavern.  
  
It takes Jaebum a mere second to drag him inside and slam his back against the closed door, blunt end of the knife pressed against the pale skin of Mark's throat. It's a blow to his ego to get discovered so easily, especially after meticulously hiding his tracks even within a city thousands and thousands of miles away.  
  
(But then again, it wouldn't be the first time he'd made the mistake to underestimate Mark)  
  
"Tell me why I shouldn't slit your throat right now," Jaebum whispers. But even as he presses the cold metal of the knife closer Mark doesn't blink. Instead he closes his fingers over Jaebum's, keeping them there and staring deep into his eyes. Jaebum ignores the warmth that pools at the heat radiating off of him, how each breath Mark lets out fans against the line of his jaw.  
  
"You're not going to kill me."  
  
"Sure about that?"  
  
"If you wanted that it would have happened a long time ago."  
  
"What did you do, call back-up?"  
  
"Stop acting like a little bitch, there is no one around."  
  
"..."  
  
"..."  
  
"..."  
  
"Jaebum."   
  
Mark's eyes are unwavering but his voice... Jaebum glares at him before moving away, dropping the knife on the table and running a hand through the mess of his jet black hair. It's midday and the sunlight is trickling in from the open window, a cool breeze swaying the undrawn curtains. Jaebum can't help but think the serenity is completely out of place, especially when he doesn't know what any of this is about.  
  
Or maybe he is just unwilling to admit it.  
  
When he looks back Mark has moved away from the door and is looking at the multitude of pictures tacked on the adjacent wall. They are expendable pieces of Jaebum's life, just hints of color of the past two fives years Jaebum has kept while moving from place to place. They give nothing away about his locations or endeavors. But for some reason Jaebum feels exposed, especially as Mark fingers the edges of one - a picture of a red fox Jaebum had seen in Honshu - and turns to look at Jaebum with the hints of a smile playing at his lips.   
  
Jaebum doesn't smile back, but he doesn't ignore it either.  
  
"If you have something to say you better get started now," he says instead, sitting on the arm of the couch. He can see Mark contemplating to come sit on the other end, but the blonde seems to decide against it, leaning against the wall instead. Jaebum appreciates it.   
  
So Mark tells him. About Park Jinyoung stepping down and the mess that had ensued afterwards. About the smaller mobs that had taken a toll after Jaebum's stint but come out stronger when the southwest ring decided to unite with them. He tells him about Jackson's parents being murdered and the inside work that had almost taken out their entire organization had they not discovered it on time, about Jinyoung reaching out for a alliance when they had stabilized because the same people were coming after him as well.  
  
_To become stronger_ , he'd proposed, _to take out the common enemies_. It's been in the works since the moment Jaebum left, Mark tells him, and Jaebum should be surprised but isn't. Not when Mark tells him the exact details of the pact and the workings around it. After all, that's exactly the kind of shit Jinyoung is capable of pulling in order to take down those that mess with his people, and what better person to ally with than Jackson? The Dragons had always been rivals but had remained on good terms with them, especially compared it to the rest of the thief circle. Plus there was the fact that Jaebum had always had an inkling Jinyoung's interest in the Chinese heir didn't just stem from rivalry, and the younger man had a knack for getting what he wanted, be it one way or another.  
  
It made sense, but—  
  
"How exactly do I know this isn't some elaborate bullshit?" Jaebum says after a few heartbeats, because even if it makes sense, even if the pieces fit - even if a part of him has always trusted Mark more than he'll ever willingly admit - being a cynic is part of the job. Being a cynic saves your ass from getting caught or killed.  
  
Mark gives him that same soft smile from moments ago, straightening as he moves away from the wall. He grabs the hem of his plain black shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion, and when he turns Jaebum lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding in. There, engraved on Mark's shoulder, right above the silhouette of the red dragon that curls towards his spine, is the outline of an eagle with its wings spread wide. It's inked in white, like all the sigils carved on the skin of the high-rankers that work for the Parks. It's smaller than the one on Jaebum's own back, fainter in the bright light because of Mark's paler skin, but it's still there. The delicate lines of one of the wings touch the edge of his right shoulder blade, the longest of its feathers ending right where a thin gold chain wraps around the back of Mark's neck.  
  
It looks like it belongs there and Jaebum can't breathe.   
  
He doesn't realize how hard he is staring until Mark turns back around, shirt twisted into a wrinkled mess between his hands.  
  
"Junior's looking to bring you back on board, but he doesn't know I'm here," he tells Jaebum, and his voice is strained, like he is trying to get the words out but struggling with every single one. It's the first time Jaebum's seen Mark be anything but incredibly blunt or incredibly quiet. "I came here because of you."

 

 

Jaebum doesn't know who moves first. Maybe it's him. Maybe it's Mark. Or maybe they both just meet in the middle. All he knows is that one moment he's looking at the hesitation in the blonde's eyes and in the next second it's gone and there is smoldering heat behind them, like he's finally letting go. Or maybe Jaebum is projecting what he is feeling onto the older thief. He doesn't know. He honestly doesn't really care.   
  
All Jaebum cares about right now is Mark's lips on his, the warmth of his skin seeping through every layer of clothing between them. There are hands everywhere and desire, so much desire. To tear away and consume. To make up for what's been unfulfilled although it's always been there, simmering beneath the surface. This hunger they'd never allowed themselves to get lost into, that has remained dormant and unsated since Mark stole his first target from him.

Hunger from lust.

Hunger for each other.

Maybe even hunger for love.   
  
_Definitely for love_ , no matter how fucked up said love is. No matter what Jaebum tells himself, no matter how many times and in how many ways. And Jaebum learns to accept it, learns to not fight it as he buries himself to the hilt in him, fucks Mark into the worn out cushions of the old blue couch and hears him mewl his name, hears him whimper in the soft glow of the afternoon light. It's love and lust and fire. A new kind of fire. Jaebum doesn't think he knows how to love but he knows how to ignite. And the flames that lick at him now burn good. Like being drowned in expensive liquor.  
  
And Mark, calm Mark with the storm brewing within but who also knows how to keep it at bay - he teaches him too. Tugs at his hair and pushes Jaebum back until he's flush against the backrest of the couch, builds a slow pace that has Jaebum gasping for breaths against his neck because it's too tight and too hot and too much and being in love doesn't help.  
  
Mark who cradles Jaebum's face and teaches him how to make love and not just fuck, who traces the outline of Jaebum's reddened lips and stares into his eyes until his own close from waves and waves of unrelenting pleasure.   
  
Watching him come undone, Jaebum thinks, is just like coming home. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> prideee, i hope you liked it despite it coming out more emo and less sassy than i originally wanted it to be. it was also supposed to be only a bit over 1,000 but I clearly failed, hah.
> 
> also i feel like this was such a clusterfuck of genres and i'm so sorry! i literally got no sleep for a good 24+ and was just reading over the draft for fun and my brain decided that nope, i HAD to finish it today.
> 
> please comment and leave constructive criticism! It means the world to a writer.


End file.
